Fish in the Sea
by lexxie r
Summary: Xena/Ares. Ruminations of the mortal farmer. Takes place after OAHAF.


DISCLAIMER: Xena and Co. belong to MCA/Universal. 

TIMELINE: Takes place immediately after "Old Ares Had a Farm". 

PAIRING: Hope you like X/A. 

FEEDBACK: ** mistiblu02@hotmail.com**. 

** Fish in the Sea** by Lexxie 

Hunger is definitely one of those mortal quirks which I know I'll never learn to appreciate. It's what dragged me over here, after all. Here, to the insipid corner of Tartarus known as Greba's Dinner Table. 

I knew I shouldn't have come here. Should've stayed in the dilapidated old shack that is now my mortal home and ignored that damned incessant rumbling in my stomach. But _ no_; one mention of roasted quail and my intestines start doing a jig like I've just been offered some ambrosia. I didn't even hear the rest of her sentence. I was too busy fantasizing about eating some _ real_ food. Food that hasn't been picked from a tree or burned beyond recognition. So when she invited me over for dinner, I just snapped my watering mouth shut and nodded in acceptance. A guy's gotta eat, after all. 

But as I sit here listening to her prattle on mindlessly, I begin to seriously regret my decision. By the _ cosmos_, she's dull. I've had more invigorating conversations with Horace. 

*** 

"...and I just _ love_ what you've done to that old place," she gushes, and I force my glazed eyes back to her smiling face. "I mean, before it was just so run down and...and...run down. But now, it's very homey and nice-looking and...and...nice-looking! And you've even got pigs, and a cow--it's just so farm-like!" 

"Imagine that," I say with an indulgent smile. "And in a farm house, of all places." 

"Oh, I _ know_!" she squeals in laughter, my sarcasm flying straight over her head and into the hearth behind her. After a few moments, she catches her breath and proceeds to dab at the corners of her eyes with a napkin. She seems to have quieted down now and I breathe an inward sigh of relief. I just might be able to finish the rest of this dinner in blessed silence, after all. 

But just when I think it's safe, she launches into another story about this uncle of hers who reminds her of my dog. 

*** 

"...oh, and did I tell you about the way he combs his hair? He looks _ just_ like your puppy! It's just too creepy. But funny and...and...funny!" I watch her nearly choke on a piece of quail as her giggles overpower her. 

Sighing, my fork clatters back down to my plate. I lean back in my chair, critically staring at her with narrowed eyes as she babbles on. It's a shame, really. If I scrunch my eyes up just right, she almost looks just like this other brunette I know. One who, admittedly, is not nearly as friendly, but _ damn_ if she doesn't make me want to burn. 

The thought of her brings a smile to my face, and Greba interprets it as an invitation. Her eyes drop coyly and her lashes bat at me in a ridiculously flirty manner. I let that one go and drown out the rest of her story as my thoughts wander back to the woman who has single-handedly turned my life into a delirious free-fall. 

Ah, Xena...I wonder what adventure that little witch of mine has gotten involved in now. It's times like this that I really miss all those godly extras. Before, I could just wave my hand and I'm magically able to snoop in on her; now I am reduced to using my imagination. I could almost picture her: long, determined strides carrying her down a forest road with a queen's grace, the annoying blonde by her side and a piece of my heart unknowingly stashed somewhere in her horse's saddlebags. 

Now _ there's_ a romantic image. 

Part of me is intensely annoyed that she could still deny what we both know to be true, and humiliated that I could just let her drag me along by the heartstrings like a whipped puppy. It's a good thing I'm more stubborn than she is, or else I probably would have zapped with her with some do-it-yourself love spell long ago. Somehow, though, I can't imagine myself doing that. Somehow, I know that she's worth hurting for. 

*** 

And I _ also_ know, sitting here and watching Greba's too-bright lips try to kill me with their gibberish, that if I don't escape from here soon, I will go insane. 

Pushing my chair back abruptly, I stand and casually toss my napkin on my half-emptied plate. "Oh, would you look at the time," I say with feigned surprise. "I really should be going." 

She looks up at me from her chair, puzzled and pouting. "Wha--so soon? You didn't even finish your dinner!" 

I humor her with a smile and pat my stomach a couple of times for effect. "Oh, I had enough, don't worry." _ More_ than enough, I silently add. 

Smiling seductively, she rises to her feet and sidles close to me. I barely restrain the urge to roll my eyes. "Well, why don't you stay for a few drinks?" she says with a flutter of her lashes. 

"You know, I'd love to, but I need to go home and arrange the hay in the barn by color and length." 

I turn and stride out the door, not bothering to look back at her blank, perplexed expression. 

*** 

The moonlight is throwing formless shadows all around me as I make my way back to the farm. Beneath the crunch of gravel beneath my boots, I hear the faint crooning of crickets and night owls. Out of nowhere, a chilly wind stirs to life and brushes around my bare arms and neck. My skin prickles at the sudden assault and, for a quick moment, I almost wish that I was back at Greba's, sitting in front of the fireplace. It's cold out here. Cold and lonely. 

But when I think about that farce of a romantic dinner, I realize that it hadn't been much better. Only one person could take this chill away, and she's probably off rescuing someone from certain death or the latest reject from hell at the moment, so that's out of the question. 

For now, anyway. 

I can wait. After all, I waited twenty-five years for her, didn't I? And I'm still reeling from our reunion. I shake my head and quicken my steps, hasty to get to the warmth of my bed. The same bed she slept in when she was a little girl visiting her grandparents. Sometimes, if I close my eyes and concentrate real hard, I can almost smell her scent on the faded sheets. 

Damn it all to Tartarus, I am whipped. 

There's just no one like my Xena, I think. Destroyer of nations, they called her; she can stare down armies with a single glare or gut a man like a butcher would a fish, but there is such beauty and power in her...she is more divine than I ever was. 

And to think that Greba came from the same breed. Like my father told me once, after a convoluted explanation about how a hickey found its way to his neck, there's plenty of fish in the sea. And don't I know it. Women--normal, boring, listless women--I've had more than my share. They come and they go. And in my part of the ocean, a woman like Greba would be just a regular old guppy. 

But Xena--Xena's more like a damned beautiful shark. 

*** 

I round the corner, nearly tripping on a fallen branch. Stumbling around a little, I glare at the offending stick and start back toward the farm. I don't notice the long, lithe shadow sitting on the steps until the clouds part and a shard of moonlight illuminates a very familiar set of blue eyes. 

"So. Been taking care of the chickens?" 

*** 

An idiotic grin pushes its way to my face, and I know I must look like a pimply academy boy ogling his crush, but I don't care. She's here, she's sitting in front of my door, waiting for me to tell her about the chickens, and all I could think was that I am _ such_ a lucky bastard. 

But to answer her question. "I ate one for breakfast." I force myself not to cringe as I hear the words come out of my mouth. Yeah, way to charm the lady. 

She stares flatly for a second before asking, "How do you expect to make it as a farmer when you keep eating the inventory?" 

"Well, how would you like to buy your poultry from an emaciated, malnourished hunk?" I counter. "I've still got this physique to think of." I grin slyly and flex my pecs for her benefit. 

A corner of her mouth lifts in an unbidden smile. "Point taken," she simply says. 

She falls silent and turns her gaze to the farmhouse. It was bathed in an odd mix of moonlight and shadow, and I can see her peering through the darkness to examine my mister-fixer-upper efforts on the place. I examine her strong, angular profile while her head is turned. Her hair falls like a dark river around her features, caressing the planes of her cheekbones with exquisite softness. 

She knows I am staring; I don't know why she is being so civil about it, either. But she is the flame, and I'm the moth. She just draws me in, this woman, draws me with that warmth, that fire. I want to look at her like this forever. 

"So..." she says slowly, turning back to me. 

I swallow. "So," I say huskily. I realize belatedly that in those few moments of silence, I'd moved closer to her. We are both standing on a small spot of moonlit grass while the shadows continue to veil the world around us. 

"You've been renovating," she observes. 

I shrug. "Haven't had that much to do, you know?" 

She nods in silent understanding. I notice for the first time that her blonde tail isn't with her. Cocking a questioning eyebrow at her, I ask, "Gabrielle?" 

It's her turn to shrug. "She wanted to check on her sister and her niece." 

"You didn't go with her?" 

"No," she replies after a pause. "I wanted to check on you." 

This time, the grin is beaming at her full force. "Did you, now?" I reply, unable to keep the teasing out of my voice. 

I felt it immediately, that old, defensive wall springing up immediately around her. "As you know, I've a considerable investment in--all this," she replied briskly. "Just wanted to make sure you're worth it." 

Ouch. I forget sometimes that her tongue is just as sharp as that chakram of hers. "I've been a good little country boy, Xena," I reply innocently. "Just ask Greba." 

She narrows her eyes at me. "Greba? What's it got to do with her?" 

The grin has turned cocky now. "You're not the only one who's been checking up on me, Xena," I say slyly. 

In a quick, noiseless motion, she moves to stand directly in front of me and before I know it, I'm staring straight into those clear, bottomless blue eyes of hers. All my bravado slowly slides off my face. Never realized it before, but as I'm standing here, melting, I know that Xena could kill more men with those baby blues than she ever could with her chakram. But what a way to go. 

She peers at me with that relentless stare. I sincerely hope she doesn't know what all this closeness is doing to me. She knows too much, as it is. But I was never really good at hiding myself from her. Especially when she's standing so close to me that I can smell her hair and see the spectrum of blue and gold in her eyes. Slowly, a knowing smirk appears on her own face. 

"You're so full of it," she says finally. Sees right through me, she does. Damn her. Damn her even more for looking at me like that, for standing so unbearably close that I know I'm going to do something irrevocably stupid, and soon. It's the moonlight I think dazedly, the stars, it's all that chirping in the background. It's a conspiracy to drive me insane, I think, and before I could think anymore, I close the distance between us and cover her lips with my own. 

***

I hold the kiss for as long as I dare, allowing myself to get lost in it a little before moving slightly back, barely a breath of space between us. I wait for the vicious left jab which I know she saves just for me. Instead, she just stares at me, quiet and frowning. 

"What--was that for?" she asks suspiciously. 

I open mouth and pray for something intelligent to come out. "Don't know," I reply once I find my voice. 

"Don't do it again," she warns me, though I hear her a tremor in her voice where the uncertainty made its way passed her defenses. 

I only smile back and tentatively run a finger through a jetty lock of hair that had escaped the clasp at the back of her head. Relieved that she didn't move back, I tuck it behind an ear and then lean down to whisper, "No promises." 

She rolls her eyes and moves away from me, back into the shadows, breaking the spell. "Same old punk, aren't you, Ares?" she mutters. 

I cluck my tongue at her teasingly. "Only for you, Princess." 

She tries to glare at me, although I do not miss the twinkle in her eyes. I trace the contours of her face with my eyes, drinking in the lightness in her heart this night. It's contagious, I think. I could get used to this. My eyes meet hers once more and that affinity which has scared me into stupidity before, but which I now treasure, causes the chill to lift. 

She allows me to look for a few more moments before taking charge again. "You gonna stare at me forever, or are you going to invite me in for a drink?" she says. 

"Have you ever had an uncle who combed his hair like a dog?" I ask. 

Her eyes shift confusedly to the side for a moment before returning to my face. "No," she says slowly. 

"Good," I smile. Moving past her, I unlock the door and make a sweeping gesture with my arm, invitation in my eyes. "After you, battle-axe." 

"Shut up and get the ale, jack ass." 

Oh yeah. She loves me. 

THE END


End file.
